Pythia
by Jo Huston
Summary: A sequel. Based mostly from the ALW musical. Slight ErikMeg. Redone! Meg returns to the Opera after 10 years. formerly called: 'The Last Dance'
1. Prologue&Chapter One

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**Pythia **

_By Jo Huston (formerly Lucy de Pointe du Lac)_

**!PLEASE SEE AUTHOR'S NOTE AT THE BOTTOM!**  
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Dedicated to DistrictAttorneyoftheTheatre, Nephele, Christine Daae and anonymous.

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Disclaimer- I do NOT own Phantom of the Opera. It is owned by M. Gaston Leroux, Andrew Llyod Webber and R.U.G. Don't sue.  
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"You alone can make my song take flight! It's over now, the music of the night!"

The Phantom reached out to Christine who kissed Raoul, deep and passionate as they returned to the light of day.

Erik was happy for her, even though in his heart he was still dreaming that the arms that held Christine were his.

He turned and slowly walked to his throne. There he sat listening to the sound of the angry voices he knew were after him. He wrapped his cape around himself and said goodbye...

Meg climbed down the gates ahead of the mob. As her feet touched the damp floor, she took in deep breath. She was here. The place that had both haunted and mystified her best friend. But Christine was no where in sight.

'What did he do with her?' she wondered suddenly feeling anger.

She gasped as she saw a figure, wrapped in a cape, sitting at the large throne in the corner. Meg slowly and cautiously approached the chair. Gathering her courage she reached out and grabbed the cape away from the figure to reveal...nothing.

Meg gasped. All that was left was a mask...slender and white. She kneeled beside the throne and carefully picked up the mask in her small hand.

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Ten long years later...

'What am I doing here?' The young woman thought as she approached the Opera House. Memories flooded back as she walked up the steps of the once grand and regal Paris Opera. Her dark blue velvet dress rubbed against her strong, dancer's, legs as she quickened her pace. She reached out to pull open the door, but pulled back a second as she thought of her last day here...

"We are very sorry you have to leave us. You were an important part of this opera," Monsier Firman patted her gloved hand. Her mother had just died and she needed to see her younger sister in America.

"Thank you very much...but I can't stay here...you must understand..." she looked at him and his partner Monsier Andre, with hopeful eyes.

Monsier Andre moved up beside her, "May I show you out?" he said as he held his arm out for her.

She smiled at him, "Thank you," she said as she accepted his arm.

They walked out the door into the long, well done main hall of the Opera House. They walked past many of the fine statues and she couldn't hold back a tear from rolling down her face. M. Andre noticed it and stopped.

She looked up to face him, "I'm really going to miss it here..." she put a hand to her face. M. Andre pulled it away and held her hand in his.

"You are always welcome..."

'You are always welcome', she thought. She deep breath and pulled open the door.

The first thing she noticed was the emptiness. The regularly crowded halls with chattering people waiting to be admitted, were empty. The air was musky and there were white cloths over many of the statues.

She walked over to the white cloth she knew her favorite statue was under, her heels clicking against the floor. She reached out and quickly pulled the sheet off the statue. The bronze carving of a young woman in a ballet outfit, dancing. Marcello's _Pythia_. She loved it because it always reminded her of herself. She smiled and slowly lifted her hand to touch the woman's face when suddenly she heard a gruff voice behind her.

"'Ey! What are you doing in 'ere?"

The young lady spun around to see a middle aged man dressed in overalls and a plaid shirt...and he was covered in dirt and oil.

"Who are you?" she asked him.

"Me name's 'Enry. I'm workin' on restorin' one of the boxes in the theatre. Who're you?" he said placing his hand on his hip.

The young woman fiddled with her dress as she spoke. "I...I used to dance here. I had to move away. When I heard the Opera was going to re-open I had to come back. But...who are the managers now?" she asked him.

The man scratched his chin, "Uh...some nice fellows...what were their names? Oh yes...Firman and Andre".

She smiled, "Good. Do you know when they will be back?" she asked him.

Henry shrugged, "Tomorrow morn', I suppose...why?"

The lady smiled as she moved towards the door, "I want to dance again. Thank you for your help..." she thanked him and pushed the door open.

"Wait! You still didn't tell me your name, Miss...?"

She smiled.

"Meg Giry"

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The Next Morning...

"What are we going to do!" M. Andre cried practically pulled his hair out.

"Now Andre," M. Firman came over and sat Andre in his chair. "Don't worry, we'll think of something." Then he sat down in his own chair, trying to sort his thoughts.

Inside the manager's box at the Paris Opera, things weren't going the way the managers had planned.

"But the Opera House is going to re-open in one month! And we still have no one to perform! No singer for an opera, no dancer for a ballet! We're going to have to push back the re-opening date!" Andre grabbed his newspaper off his desk and began to browse towards the ads section.

Firman rested his hand on his head. "Please Andre...you're not going to find anyone in there! Now we need to think...who can we get?".

Andre's head jerked up. "What about Carlotta Gudicelli? Do you think she would do it?"

Firman looked up at him with a distressed look on his face. "You've forgotten, La Carlotta retired after that night with the...the... O.G. She never really got over Monsier Piangi's death."

Andre reached over and put a hand on Firman's shoulder. "What about Christine Daae? What about her?"

"No. She's in New York. And besides do you really think she'd come back here? Please..."

Suddenly the managers heard footsteps coming down the hall. Andre and Firman looked at each other.

"Who could that be?" Andre whispered as he stood up and carefully walked towards the old door.

Suddenly the footsteps stopped and Andre looked back at Firman. Then a knock was heard.

"Hello?" a small voice asked from behind the door.

Andre quickly reached down and opened the door. Meg Giry stood there in a magnificent dark red and white velvet dress. Both Andre and Firman's eyes widened.

"Miss Giry!" Firman cried as he stood up.

Meg smiled, "Good evening, gentlemen."

"Why, come in! Come in, my dear! My, you look lovely!" Andre exclaimed as he let Meg enter.

"How are you doing, Miss Giry? And back in Paris?" Firman asked as he gestured for her to it. She did.

"I'm doing most fine, thank you. I'm glad to be home." 'in Paris or at the Opera?' she wondered as she spoke.

Andre smiled, "As are we. What brings you back?"

Meg looked down at her lap and nervously twisted her fingers around the strap of her velvet purse. "I...well, I haven't danced before an audience in quite awhile and, I guess I miss it. I've been practicing, of course, but it isn't the same. The lights, the costumes...the crowds...I miss them."

Firman looked at Andre. Andre looked at Firman. They smiled. Andre put is hands over Meg's. "It seems, my dear, that you have arrived at the most oppertune moment."

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**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

This was written in 2002. It hasn't been updated since. I ran face first into a writer's WALL. I felt terrible letting down the three people who reviewed it and asked for it's continuation.

Now I'm in college and just got a new laptop. A started going through my files and came across this little scrap of a thing.

A light bulb went on!

I started writing again. I started with what I thought was the vital scene: Meg and Erik meet. I finished and am very happy. I think it's much better written than what you just read above. When I have more time I will completely redo the prologue and this first chapter (before they were split into three tiny chapters and tiny chapters drive me batty.)

To keep you from completely hating me, I will upload the Erik/Meg scene without the exposition that usually would be inserted between it and this chapter. As soon as I can I will write all that necessary stuff, but for now I'll just leave you with the fun stuff.

Please comment if you can, they help SOOOO much.

p.s. the title will eventually change to 'Pythia', being the famous statue in the Opera House that Meg identifies with. I hate "The Last Dance" as it is a bit common and doesn't really relate to the story. At the time I just thought it sounded dramatic. --()

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**Next Chapter- skips ahead to the first Erik/Meg scene. Tell me what you think, ne?**


	2. Chapter X

**The Last Dance**

_By Jo Huston_  
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Dedicated to DistrictAttorneyoftheTheatre, Nephele, Christine Daae and anonymous.-

----Author's Note----

**Here it is ladies and gentlemen. This is Chapter_X_ because I do not know where it will go in the full story. Read my author's note for the last chapter so you'll know what I'm talking about. **

**Let me know what you think, k?**

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Meg ducked under a low beam and tried not to whimper as she got caught in a spider web. Hopefully the resident would not be home.

A clatter from within the darkness, though, was enough to make her gasp.

"H-Hello?" she whispered.

A noise from behind. Meg spun around.

More darkness.

Meg tried to listen but the sound of her own panting breaths seemed to be deafening.

She rushed back towards the door leading out of the storage room, but stopped herself before she reached the door.

She was here because she had to know.

A whoosh of cloth made her turn.

A figure of a man in the darkness, was crouched in the corner.

_'The moment of truth, Meg.'_

"You're him aren't you?" she asked softly.

"A vague question." The deep splendor of his voice filled the room.

Meg dared to take a step closer, but the man just pulled back further into the shadows.

Meg, despite her fear, tried her best to smile for him. "I shan't hurt you."

Something between a laugh and a cough escaped the lips of the man. "I am reassured."

Meg couldn't help but feel a bit insulted, but she knew that her small frame and innocent face weren't exactly threatening.

"Do you have a name? Or would you prefer 'Monsieur Ghost'?"

"What good is my name to you, mon chére?"

Meg shrugged lightly and kneeled down on the dusty floor, as to be even with his eye line. "It's only polite."

The man nodded. "Well, one must not ignore proper etiquette."

Meg held her breath as the man turned towards her. Although his face was still shrouded in shadow she could now see glimpses of that agonized face she saw for fleeting seconds when Christine ripped off his mask during 'Don Juan Triumphant'.

"My name is Erik. Your 'Fantome de L'Opera' as it were."

Meg smiled genuinely this time, she was still cautious, but happy that he told her.

"It's nice to properly meet you…Erik."

The man, Erik, shuddered softly and Meg frowned. "What's wrong?"

He dropped his head and quietly replied: "Forgive me. I have not heard my name spoken in many years."

Meg gazed upon him in sympathy. "Not even from Chris-?"

"_Don't!"_ Erik jumped to his feet.

Meg gasped and fell back, frightened by his outburst.

Erik immediately crouched down again at her level. "No, forgive me, mon chére. I did not intend to frighten you…It's just…" he trailed off.

Meg regained her breath and pushed herself back up into a sitting position. "I understand. Please, forgive _me_. I should have known better. I didn't intend to cause you pain."

Erik nodded, but stayed silent, seemingly disappearing into his own world of darkness once more.

Meg knew she had to bring him back, before he slipped away. "My name is Meg Giry."

She could have sworn that through the shadows she could see the grotesque lips curl into a small smile.

"I know. The beautiful daughter of Madamé Giry. Our beloved ballet mistress."

Meg prayed she hadn't blushed at his compliment. "I don't know if you are aware, but…she died years ago."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know. She will be missed."

He stood up and Meg, not sure what he was going to do, stood as well.

Apparently he did not know either as they just stood in silence for a few moments, before Meg, uncomfortable by the stillness, said, "I'm going to be dancing here again."

Erik stayed silent, so she continued. "M. Leo Délibes passed on a few months ago. In his honor Monsieurs Firmin and André wish to produce his _'Sylvia ou La Nymphe de Diane '_. They have already asked me to play the title roll."

Meg couldn't help but smile. "I don't even know if I can. I've never had such a part before."

Finally Erik spoke. "I am sure you will be a delightful Sylvia. Had I the skill I would be your Aminta, but alas ballet is not one of my talents."

Meg held in a childish giggle as she imagined Erik dressed as the shepherd Aminta, lifting her over his head. "I am saddened!"

"Do you mock me?" he inquired, but there was no anger in his voice.

"Oh no! Never, Erik." she tested the name again.

Thankfully there was no heated reaction like the first mention.

Meg knew that she was running out of time. Her roommate, nervous thing that she was, would most likely alert everyone in the dorms of Meg's absence and it wouldn't do to be the cause of a scene.

"Do you still live below?"

Erik nodded. "Yes. There are many caverns and dark places for a creature such as myself to dwell."

Meg bowed her head, not wanting him to think she pitied him, although she did.

"I must be returning to the dorms…But…I would very much like to speak to you again. If it is alright with you?"

"…Is that what you wish?"

"Yes, please."

Erik turned away from her. "Go on then. Do not try to find me again. I will come to you in time."

Meg nodded, she was absolutely mesmerized by this man.

"Good night, Erik."

"Good night, Mlle. Giry."

Meg opened the door to leave when she turned back.

"Erik?"

"Yes?"

"You…you could call me 'Meg'."

There was silence, so Meg simply shut the door behind her.


End file.
